rewrite history
by WingsofRain
Summary: / ash & may / "'Cause we're timeless, baby, you and I — they build the bridges and we burn them down." Advanceshipping. May-centric.


**Hello, hello! It's great to see you all again :)**

**So, this story was more of a writing exercise for me that kind of...took off and made itself. Basically, I was trying to explore May's character as she lives in the shadow of her father, and eventually, how she gets out of that and finds herself. With Advanceshipping, or course. **

**And, because this was intended to be an exercise, I think this is the fastest I've ever written a fanfiction...4 days, I believe. Yay.**

**This is what I had originally intended **_**Paperback **_**to be like, but then my plotline kind of split and instead of one story I got two. So, know that this fanfic will have similar elements to **_**Paperback**_**. It could also be titled "that one time WingsofRain plotted out May's timeline with copious detail and big vocabulary." Long story short: I had angsty May feels, so this happened.**

**Let it be known that I don't like giving May a last name...or any of the characters really (except for Ash, because he really has one), but I had to, for the story to work. It **_**is**_** unanimously agreed that May's last name is "Maple," right?**

**I also apologize beforehand for the lack of commas and abundance of run-ons. I'm a grammar freak, so writing this was difficult, but I wanted to make it sound like a huge, overarching thought process. Inspired by an Avengers fic I read on AO3 by ****gyzym. **

**Warnings: Rated T for one bad word. Also, it's very, **_**very **_**May-centric. Also, it's Advanceshipping, with a slight bit of Contestshipping because we cannot deny that Drew had some effect on May's life.**

**Disclaimer: I also do not own Pokémon, clearly.**

**Anyway, enough of my rambling. As always, please enjoy.**

* * *

**rewrite history ('cause you and I, we're timeless baby)**

* * *

_'No,' said the cat. 'You people have names. That's because you don't know who you are. We know who we are, so we don't need names."_

_- _Neil Gaiman_, Coraline_

—

Zero, and that's when she's born, kicking and squirming and pale blue eyes seeing for the first time, opening to a world of brilliant light and powder blue scrubs, all pink flesh and innocence and bright white noise. She cries for a long while, loud enough that the stars tremble with all the glitz and glamour of this brave new world, and by the end of the evening everybody knows May Maple, Norman's new baby girl, Caroline's little miracle. "Don't cry sweetheart," her mother soothes, all tears and pastel-violet eyes, cooing and whispering, "May, dear child—bringer of spring, my little dreamer."

It's the only time her name truly belongs to her, pure and whole and untouched by the world, and looking back May would have said it again and again just to _keep _it that way. She cries out feebly, but Caroline just wraps the blanket tighter and rocks her softly, singing and singing until all the little stars and whispers spin her a cradle and she finally gives herself to sleep.

—

Three, and this is when she first learns fear, ruby red eyes and sparkling waters too bright and too foreign. She's lost and all alone in the glinting sunlight and the smell of sunscreen turning her skin creamy white, _pretty, pretty_ she giggles until the Tentacool surround her and she squeaks _Mommy, Daddy, help me! _She panics and out of nowhere a red-white sphere she will one day know too well comes soaring, opening in a flash of red light and the Tentacool disappears, only to burst out again with an indignant cry and a splash of glittering water. Norman jumps in only seconds later to fish her out, and she's crying, kicking up sand and salt and telling herself she'll never put herself through that again.

Come a few months later and Max joins the world, and May's delighted because she'll never be alone again—she abandons her stuffed animals and the little Shroomish who visits their yard sometimes for her new baby brother, and everyone in town knows May Maple, Norman's first child, silly little girl, big sister. She beams with pride and weaves little crowns of buttercup for Max's hair, and even fear can't stop her from climbing up slides and waving wildly, _look Max! Look! _before jumping into the air and flapping wings that don't exist.

Later, Caroline scolds her for pretending such foolish things and patches the bleeding cut on her leg, and even through tears May still can't help but grin at her baby brother sitting on the high chair beside her, and Max gurgles a toothless laugh for her benefit.

—

Five, and she falls in love with fairy tales and faraway lands and happily ever afters, princesses in their lilac-pink gowns and princes that will sweep her off her feet. Every night she begs her mother for one more story, and on nights that she can't May will crawl out of bed and take out the books herself, running her fingers along the illustrations and whispering the words she can't quite read but have long since memorized. She hides under the blankets to ward off the shadows and fantasizes about her own Prince Charming until morning, until the sunlight is pushing off her covers and she wishes she could bring her dreams with her out of the night.

School isn't much better, and though she makes a few friends she still has trouble fitting in. It's just that everyone's always _staring_, teachers and students alike, and she doesn't need to be observant to hear that everyone knows May Maple, the gym leader's daughter, the golden child, the pushover. There are kids who offer to share their cookies at snack time, and while she's chewing away they ask if they can play after school and _maybe we could watch your dad battle too?_ May swallows and when she tells them _no, Daddy says I'm not allowed to bring friends into the Gym_, their little faces harden and she never hears from them again.

(she hates it too, that Daddy's never there, _Daddy's always busy_, and when her other friends bring their fathers in during the annual Father-daughter dance, May stands by herself in a new dress made of eyelet lace and pink gingham, biting her lip to hold back tears because she's a _big girl_—)

She still forgives him though in the end, every time, because sometimes when Daddy does come home, they'll laugh and sit around the fireplace and make jam thumbprint cookies and everything is okay again.

—

Nine, and she knows she's supposed to be excited, but she just _can't _because all she hears is _it's your turn next year, _and _your father must be so proud._ It sounds more like a warning than a promise, so she's just learned to nod and keep her mouth shut because everyone knows May Maple, destined Pokémon trainer, Petalburg's princess, heir to the throne. Max is turning six and he already loves Pokémon more than she ever thinks she will, and all May can think about are the Tentacool and her classmates and a father that is never home. In school, May reads her textbook reluctantly, the words blurring together as she tries to memorize the Hoenn gym leaders one by one; _Roxanne, Brawly, Wattson, Flannery, Norman..._

(she can't say that she isn't proud when she sees her Dad's name on the page, embellished by a list of his accomplishments, but there is a sadness there too because she wishes she could have learned that from him _himself_—)

Elementary school graduation rolls around and May completes the yearbook surveys with sloping handwriting and hearts above her "i's"— but every time she comes to the question "what do you want to be when you grow up?" she chews on her pencil and puts anything else down, _ballerina, reporter, astronaut_, anything else but _Pokémon trainer_ or _Gym Leader._

If she's being honest with herself, the main reason why she's so against Pokémon is because she knows she can never live up to her father, never live up to the family name, and when Norman buys her a shiny new bike and pats her on the shoulder, saying _I'm so excited for you,_ the guilt is heavy in her stomach and May has to bite her tongue to keep from screaming.

(why can't it be different, she thinks, because sometimes she doesn't want to be _Norman's little girl _anymore; she just wants to be _May_—)

The moon is a sliver in the sky when the front door opens on a Friday night and she hears her parents reunited for the first time that day, and sometimes May feels like she's really starting to know him less as _Dad_ and more as _Norman_.

—

Ten, and it's the big day,_ a new beginning, not an ending_, everyone had said, so May pushes her covers back one last time and finishes her buttered toast and jam slowly, packing up her things and riding her shiny new bike to Littleroot town. _I just want to make Dad happy_, she thinks, _that's all that matters, _but it's just so _hard_ to focus on Pokémon when knows she could just travel the world instead. Her stomach feels tight because all things considered she's still not sure where she's going; down, down, down this path she never even got to choose—

But then she meets _him_ in Professor Birch's laboratory, and everything begins to change.

He's like a force of nature, brilliant and exciting, dark gold eyes so patient and kind and unafraid, and without knowing she rolls his name on her tongue again and again as if she can't get enough, _Ash Ketchum, the boy who shines like the sun._

She ends up traveling with him and he opens her eyes to _everything_, to contests and dreams and glittering stages, and before long everyone knows May Maple, the new girl, the coordinator, the rebel. She holds her head up high, arms outstretched, feigning confidence and leaking insecurity, and never has she been so vulnerable, all her pieces and all her inexperience laid bare for the first time ever, but it doesn't matter because when she _does_ win her first ribbon, she has never been happier.

(he did it, he _did_, he made her realize that she has the power to rewrite _everything_—)

And thus begins her life, traveling and exploring with a family she never knew she had; it begins just so, with temperate nights laying in the dewy grass and surrounded by darkness. She sees the stars but Ash shows her the comets and the supernovas, the castles and oceans and rolling hills, ribbons and Luvdiscs and aurora lights and all the adventure she had ever dreamed of written into her future. _You make it yourself, _he said once, _this is my dream and this is yours, and no one can take that away._

He's now and forever and May never wants the day to end; she would plead with the universe for a second chance to do it all again, because looking back May realizes that to him, to this brilliant, dark eyed boy, she really was (for the first time) just _May._

—

Twelve, and that's the day she decides to leave it all behind, everything that she's ever built in the past two years because one morning she wakes up and realizes _I can't live without him_, and the thought terrifies her; she knows, she _knows _that all the history she rewrote for herself has _his _handwriting all over it, and if he can build her story, he can break it too. _So_, she thinks, _there's only one way out, _and she exits stage right, biting her lip so hard it draws blood: _I'll just have to leave him first_—and in the end, to save herself (to save them both), she gives him up.

It's Ash's smile though that confounds her the most; he just looks so _happy _for her, so glad that she's following her dreams that it's as if he doesn't _care _that she's leaving him behind. It's just so easy for him, and May doesn't know whether to laugh or to cry; in the end, she settles for neither because everyone knows May Maple, strong girl, brave girl, and without him she suffers in silence.

It follows just so; standing on the ship with one hand gripped tight around the railing, she can hear his goodbyes above everyone else's. She feels something splinter in her heart and because she's a masochist she thinks about all the days she gave to him, replaying each moment until it hurts, and all she can do is hold her ribbon-half tight against her chest, tight until her knuckles are white and she wonders just how she got herself into this mess in the first place.

—

Fifteen, and this is her life; eat, train, sleep, repeat. It's become such a routine that sometimes May fears that she's lost herself, but at the same time she doesn't know where to begin finding her way back so she just moves forward with her arms outstretched and her eyes fixed on her dreams; the blind leadeth the blind.

(Then she remembers where her dream starts, at square one, golden eyes and white teeth and raven black hair, _this is mine and this is yours_; the words are breaching a fissure in her chest and she wants, she _wants_—)

It gets easier for a while though because she's trailing the promise of a Prince Charming, green eyes and red roses and everything the fairytales ever told her to look for in a guy_. _And yet, after a while, she knows the name just doesn't _fit_, and it's useless believing it could, clacking against her teeth as she rolls it around, _Drew, Drew, Drew_, and she's trying and trying but she just _can't_ force her heart to forget. She wonders if her life was ever meant to be a storybook, because if it was then all the pages are out of order; nothing's right and everything feels so _wrong_, and within a few months she breaks it off, drowning in excuses and regret and when she gathers the courage to look into the water she doesn't recognize the person looking back. It doesn't matter though because everyone else knows May Maple, Princess of Hoenn, rising star, and so she takes those names and runs with them, as if she could recreate who she is simply by picking up the threads that are falling apart, seam by seam...

He stays by her side like a ghost, an imaginary friend. He tells her the adventures of their past but the threads slip right through his fingers and no matter how hard he tries, he can't sew their story back together. It may as well be though because in the end, May's just not ready to grow up, (not now, not ever): once she does, she knows he'll disappear forever.

—

Eighteen, and that's just how it happens: memories fade and people go _(that's life, _she's learned) but standing here for a moment she feels infinite; by morning everyone in the region knows May Maple: victorious girl_,_ top coordinator, _look at you love, all big and bright and beautiful._

The door opens and she walks toward the blinding light, and everything else fades behind her.

—

Twenty-two, and she steps out of the car with coral pink heels and turquoise-silk sleeves, shiny lips and glitter powder on her cheekbones; the cameras flash and this is who she's become, people pushing and crowding with notepads and microphones and video recorders because everyone wants a piece of May Maple, first coordinator to win all four Grand Festivals, _Pokémon prodigy, just like her father_. She's putting on a demonstration today, and as she conducts the ruby embers and diamond dust and silvery sparkles of her Pokémon's appeals, it really isn't so bad, this life, and perhaps it's as close to a happy ending as she'll ever get anyway—

The performance ends and aspiring coordinators gasp and applaud and beg her for autographs. May hides her eyes behind sunglasses and signs her name until her hand hurts, the adrenaline leaching out slowly and her smile waning but it's only fatigue, she tells herself, _boy, girl, man, woman, of course sir, just one more, and I'll..._

He catches her wrist firmly just as she's signing the "y" in her name, and when May looks up from the page her heart nearly stops, the pen skidding off and leaving a long, black line shaped like a scar. Ash doesn't let go, just removes the notepad and gently pries the pen out of her fingers, _hi May, _he says softly, and after all these years he really hasn't changed, not with those same eyes and smile and hair and _oh_. _Oh._

She's abruptly dizzy and her world tilts dangerously, the sound of cameras and reporters and impatient fans blurring into a whirling ambience and it's like tunnel vision, she can't see anything but him, can't feel anything but his hand still wrapped around her wrist, anchoring her and uprooting her all at once, and suddenly everything is comets and supernovas again, dazzling and breathtaking and terrible, _it's you, it's you, it's—_

That's just the way it's always been though, what did she expect; she builds, and Ash swings and knocks it all down.

She doesn't know how, but somehow, miraculously even, she pulls herself together, every trembling and shaken piece included, and as she bids the crowd goodnight she manages to slip him a piece of paper scrawled with her phone number and the words, _somewhere else, I promise._

In the end, she's not sure who exactly she's making the promise to, but given everything: him, her, _them_—it's well worth a shot to find out.

—

Twenty-three, and reacquaintance is a painfully slow process because May suddenly realizes just how busy her life has become, and after it all she's honestly frustrated with fame and that _irritates_ her (unreasonably, she'll admit). What was he thinking_, _that foolish, stupid, beautiful, outdated, _brilliant_ (she stops, takes a breath)—who was _he _to unceremoniously drop into her life from god knows where and expect them to start where they left off? Here she is ten years older, perfect and successful and everything everyone has ever expected her to be, but then he comes along all smiles and earnestness and _fuck—_suddenly she's back where she started.

She's angry and agitated and frustrated _because _she's angry and agitated—it's irrational in theory, but May has long learned that her life doesn't follow any book, any rule. She yanks on a black blazer with unnecessary force and pats her flushed face—it took a while, but they finally found a day where they were _both_ free, and that's _today_; embarrassingly the one date she couldn't seem to forget for the past two weeks, as if she had underlined it with bright red ink and circled it for good measure. She exhales shallowly and runs her fingers through her hair, pacing back and forth with bobby pins in her teeth and skirt half zipped, but then her phone rings and it's his caller I.D. and her whole entire body just throws up its hands.

Eventually, she makes it out of her apartment and he's there waiting, just like he said he would. They go for a walk and stop by a hole-in-wall tea shop where May knows they won't be interrupted, and between the small talk and cucumber sandwiches and honey blossom tea, May suddenly can't take it any longer and lets him have it, all her anger and pent-up energy and what she doesn't say but means to say is this: _you lit up my childhood and no matter what I do, the rest of my life could never compare._

He's shocked at first but then takes her outburst with patient eyes and hands folded beneath his chin, waiting and listening until she's done and, in a show of incredibly unexpected insight, says _this isn't what you wanted, is it? _

She freezes, face paling and she feels just like the dainty china plates and porcelain teacups, chipping, breaking, and so, so fragile because he's so _right, _she didn't want _this, _this _fame, _and all she's ever really wanted was to be herself because who _cares_ if everyone knows May Maple, she certainly _doesn't_—

Ash takes her face in his hands, and it's awkward and surprising but so sincere that May can't even bring herself to care. _What do __**you**__ want? _he finally asks, his eyes clear and direct and this is the culmination of everything, everything because she's been _waiting—_

She lunges across the table and kisses him desperately, like he holds all the answers, like he can put her back together; he seems shocked at first but then his hands are tangling in her hair and his lips are soft and hesitant but so willing, and behind her eyes she sees it all crumbling, _Norman's daughter, big girl, princess, top coordinator, prodigy—_instead, all she hears is a resounding _yes_.

_(let's start over.)_

—

Twenty-five, and this is May Maple, fallen bridges, kingdom come—the name wasn't hers from the start, but after all these years she's finally made it her own, and now she'll never forget it.

—

* * *

**Annotations:**

**[1] **_**"May, dear child—bringer of spring, my little dreamer." **_**So this is where you see how crazy I am with symbolism: Okay, May's name (obviously) means "the fifth month of the year," and while being the symbol of spring and fertility and all that, the tree that is most associated with the month of May is the **_**Ash tree**_**. Now, Ash's name, consequently, means "from the Ash tree." Interesting, huh?**

**[2] May's Tentacool incident was mentioned in the episode **_**A Cacturne for the Worse, **_**when Harley exploits this story to embarrass her and try to make her lose the Contest. I figure that this incident is the root of May's initial dislike of Pokémon. **

**[3] Alternatively, I also figured that Norman's fame as an admired Gym Leader (and the inevitable pressure that comes from that) would be another valid reason why May was reluctant to become a Pokémon trainer. Obviously, I've placed more emphasis on that aspect than the Tentacool one in this story.**

**[4] Buttercups symbolize immaturity and childhood. In other news, making jam (or jam thumbprint cookies, in comparison) symbolizes a desire for a happy home life.**

**[5] I considered saying "May Ketchum" at the end instead of "May Maple," but then I decided it was too cliché and never mind. But at least know I intended that they get married and, yes, live happily ever after.**

**[6] The bridges, the paths, the roads, **_**whatever**_**—that's all to symbolize how May's future was predetermined her entire life by other people (by her father's fame, being a Pokémon coordinator, etc)...and finally, when they burn, it symbolizes how she defies fate and creates her own path from the ashes (haha, get it, _Ash-_es), all by herself.**

**[7] Also, in some strange, roundabout, inverted way, this fic was me making fun of how Ash never seems to grow up. But really, by the end, I'm all-assuming that he matured over the years and gained some sort of insight about relationships. Pfft, a girl can dream, right?**

**Like? Don't like? Please let me know in a review! **

**Until next time!**

**Kisses,**

_**—WingsofRain**_


End file.
